The Escape Clause
by Aeiu
Summary: Did you ever wonder why Barbra Johnson gave the Coyote to McCormick?


THE ESCAPE CLAUSE

BY CD Angel

McCormick smiled to himself as he prepared for bed. It had been several months since a last minute deal with his own personal devil had brought him to Gulls Way and under the supervision of ex-judge Milton C. Hardcastle. It hadn't been easy but he was beginning to smooth off the man's rough edges. There had even been a moment during dinner when the old donkey had almost broken down and said something nice. _Maybe it's been done worse is a compliment in Hardcastle-speak_, thought McCormick.

A soft tentative knock at the back door of the gatehouse pulled McCormick out of his musings. Sarah Wicks, the housekeeper, was the only person who had ever knocked and only after she had burst into the living room while he was dressing. He had barely been able to look her in the eye after that incident. He pulled his robe on and opened the door. His face burst into a full smile when he saw his late night guest.

"Barbra! What are you doing here? Come on in," McCormick said as he held the door open for the daughter of Flip Johnson the man whose murder had led to his partnership with Hardcastle.

Barbra's eyes darted quickly around the room as she asked, "Are you alone? Can we talk?"

McCormick led the young woman to the living room. He could tell that something was bothering his friend. He waited for her to start the conversation but she seemed unsure of how to start. "I thought you were at school. Did something happen?" he asked.

"I am but I needed to come see you. I saw you on the news."

McCormick grimaced. He knew the high speed chase had made the local news but he hadn't realized it had made its way out of the city. He didn't appear in the story, just a shot of the Coyote barely avoiding a two car crash which had resulted in the arrest of a local drug lord. The report had even gotten his name wrong. "You know how they exaggerate things," he said as he looked into her concerned eyes.

"You're hurt," she said as she stared at the nasty bruise on his forehead and his blacked eye.

"Just a scratch. No big deal. Do you want a drink?" he asked headed for the kitchen, more in an attempt to get away from her worried countenance than to be a good host."

"Mark, do you know Jerimiah Constance?"

"Yeah," McCormick answered from the kitchen as he pulled out a couple of beers from the fridge. "He's a multimillionaire, into a lot of charities, sponsors a lot of racers."

"He wants to buy the Coyote."

McCormick felt like he had been struck hard in the chest. He sat down on the couch and numbly handed the beer to Barbra as he tried to think of what to say. The car had been a gift from her after they had brought Flip's killer to justice. But it was an expensive and high performance machine. It deserved to be showcased on the race track and not be used as target practice for every bad attitude criminal trying to escape arrest. Even though it was the only thing he owned, he couldn't deny her the money the sale of the car would bring. He could only imagine the expense of law school.

"It's not here right now," McCormick admitted unable to meet her eyes. "It's in the shop. Hardcastle's paying for the repairs but I can get you the keys as soon as it's fixed or I can sign it over to you now."

Barbra's eyes got big as she tried to explain. "Mark, you don't understand. Constance wants to buy the car from you. He'll pay you a lot of money."

"Sell Flip's car? I couldn't do that. The Coyote was his life's work, his dream."

"Dad meant for the Coyote to give you a fresh start."

She reached into her purse and handed Mark a small booklet. He saw it had his old publicity photograph affixed inside but not his real name. "Mark Merrick?" he questioned. "Barb, this is a passport. A fake passport."

"I know," she said as she pulled more papers from her purse and handed them to Mark. "There are a lot of countries that don't have extradition agreements with the United States. We could sell the Coyote to Constance and you could be in any one of these countries before Hardcastle woke up in the morning. He'd never be able to get you. You'd be able to start again."

"Do you know the trouble you could get into doing something like this? It could end your chance at law school."

"I don't care, Mark. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. I don't want to see you hurt."

"This was a fluke," McCormick said as he touched his black eye. "A miscalculation on my part. It's not that bad here." He could see by her eyes that he hadn't convinced her. "Mostly I'm doing yard work and sometimes we go after the bad guys. It's important work."

"It's not your job to go after dangerous criminals because Hardcastle wants them in jail."

McCormick tried to think of the words that could make her understand. He clasped her hand and looked her in the eye. "When I went after Cody, I knew what I was risking and I didn't regret it. When he went to jail, I felt better about myself than I had in a long time. When we stop one of these guys, I feel proud of what I'm doing. It's okay. I'm okay."

"You know your parole is over in three years. He can't keep you here indefinitely."

"I know."

Suddenly the front door burst open as Hardcastle burst into the living room and yelled, "McCormick what did I tell you about bringing your bimbos in here?" He stopped short when he saw the couple talking on the couch. "Miss Johnson, I didn't know you were in town."

"Watch out who you're calling a bimbo, Judge," said McCormick as he folded the passport inside of the other papers. "She's getting a law degree and she'll sue you for slander."

Hardcastle fixed him with a sour look. "I'm just surprised. How was I to know who you had over here?"

"It's called knocking on the door and asking," retorted McCormick.

Barbra stood and faced Hardcastle. "Congratulations, Judge. I heard about your recent case. I came over to see how Mark was doing."

"He'd be doing a darn lot better if he'd learn to follow instructions instead of trying to improvise his way out of a room full…" Hardcastle left the rest of the sentence unfinished as he saw the fear begin to grow in the young woman's eyes. He thought back to his own fear when he heard over the police radio about the car crash. He had been certain that his foolproof plan had resulted in the death of the young ex-con. "I'm sure the story you heard was exaggerated. It was all pretty routine and McCormick did a half-way decent job."

"Gee, Judge," McCormick said with a grin, with all these compliments you're going to give me a large head."

"How could anyone tell under that curly mass you call hair," snorted Hardcastle.

"You sound a little jealous, Judge," McCormick laughed in response.

"It's late and I really should get going," Barbra said as she headed for the door. "Maybe we can get together for lunch tomorrow."

"That would be great," said McCormick. "I was supposed to mow the lawn but I can put that off for another day."

"You'll have plenty of time to get it done when you get back, hotshot," responded Hardcastle.

As McCormick rose to walk Barbra to the door, he gathered the papers and handed them to her. "Here you go. I don't need them."

"Are you sure, Mark?" she asked as she stared into his eye.

"I'm sure."

She looked over to Hardcastle and said, "You take care of him, Judge."

Hardcastle hadn't said anything but he had recognized the telltale color and shape of the passport as McCormick handed the hidden document back to Miss Johnson. "Don't worry, I will," he swore and he hoped she knew how much he intended to get that promise.

"I believe you will," she said as some of her fears were put to rest.

THE END


End file.
